Monday, March 28, 2016

"Lamb" a poem



O Lamb of Dawn in dew's embrace

With mew so soft it breaks the stone,

Eyes so mild they blind my hope

And lips so kind they bleed my kiss.


O butterfly the rainbows crash

As softest clouds fork forth the earth

The wrathless laugh of bantling child

Bends the pride of baffled dad.


Your rain soft sighs in patience wade

As shafts of glass into my pulse

Your haloed name a bladed shaft

Licks my blood and plumbs my heart


Till stark and startled, howling I

Pass your veils, succumb and die.


-- R 88s Я --

Perfection Is Easy



Friday, March 4, 2016

allay 231

* 231 *

All law falls ultimately upon violence as its intrinsic support. Violence self-overcomes into order, the imposition of form – order is based on power, distance, alienation, threat, fear, but this coated like a coaxial cable so that those of us who praise the law forget its foundation as a rule-guide for how to violate the violators. Since we value both love and power, both submission and force, surrender and appropriation, we internalize the violence, the threat of isolation, into our supreme gestures of love. Hence female love flirts with masochistic and religious love symbolizes itself with suicide – the crucifix of Christianity, the self-snuffing flame of Buddhism. Even our opprobrium against violence is a violence against violence, and cannot escape the clutch of its logic. Moreso, our entertainment basically amounts to sometimes blatant, sometimes spiritualized depictions of violence – from the gunfights of action movies to the luscious heart breaks of the romance. Of course our conscience cruelly demands we enjoy violence only upon the deserving, the criminal, the vicious, the villain – but what is that? Ultimately we consume violence for entertainment – for violence is power and to impose violence expresses power over another, as murder is a supreme expression of power, suicide an ultimate expression of self-ownership. To please another risks become a tool for the other's desire. At least with violence we know it is our will over the other's will. So suicide, like masturbation, must serve as an ultimate relationship of the self with the self, a self overcoming; and as long as it is ascendant – killing part of the self for more self, self-discipline, the rejection of external bonds to increase inner control – we accept this symbol. Every rung of life requires a casting off and letting go – self violation, the trauma of creating a new womb, the void of the heart by which new expressions find possibility. Were it a noble truth that life was suffering, the second noble truth would be suicide is the escape from suffering. Yet we can't core the seed from the fruit, the bitter from the sweet, pleasure from pain, as pleasure and pain are the same energy in different forms, readily introconvertable. If law is violence, no less is love violence, an imposition, a seduction, a taking possession of. Love is suffering. We use ideas – sayings and phrases, quotations and quips – as narcotics, as opiates, as thinkable caffeine, as spoken speed – but so many palliatives ultimately prepare us to accept larger and larger shocks of pain, so that in this way our capacity for a more refined, nuanced, and spiritualized pleasure opens up and allows us to become.



-- R 88s Я --

Perfection Is Easy